Disaster At Persian Gate
by Norrsken
Summary: Alexander's longings for glory and conquest leads to the most tragic consequences in this AR version of the Battle for Persian Gate.
1. A Formidable Foe

This is my AR version of the battle for Persian Gate. Here Alexander's longing for glory and conquests leads to the most tragic consequences and the mighty King will learn the hard way about the most important things in life.

For all of you waiting for next chapter of Hazards Of Friendship: Unfortunately my computer managed to hide away this one, but it will hopefully appear next week when I have re-submitted it.

All the best wishes and hopefully good reading,

/NorthernLight

TEMPLATE:

Title: FIC: Title: Disaster At The Persian Gate. (1/6)

Author: NorthernLight

Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure and action story. Alternate History.

Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion

Date: December 2004 Feedback: Yes, all kinds, preferably "nice".

Archive: Plese tell me. At the ATG Slash&Fanfic Yahoo Groups.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. This is for my deep interest in Alexander and his time.

Summary: The conquest of Persian Gate was difficult for Alexander and the Macedonians. In this alternate history even worse...

Warnings: Angst and violence.

Disaster at Persian Gate, Part I

Guarding.

It seemed like he had always been guarding and caring for someone. As a child his younger siblings,as a teenager the troublesome customers in his dear Father's Cloth Magazine. Now he was guarding his King, his dear Golden One. He had escaped the drudgery of the cloth shop for the adventures of Military Life. All since long before the bloody battle of Chaironea he had marched along with Alexander's great army, always close together with the young King and his dear companion. He loved the Lord Hephaestion almost as fervently as the King. Yes, Stefanos was a true and steadfast Guardian. He took close care of his both precious wards. It was hard work guarding them, leading such a dangerous life, always taking necessary and unnecessary risks. They sometimes reminded him of his smaller siblings,always getting into mischief, especially when they had been drinking too much.

Now his duties had brought him to the Persian Gate. It was a cold and dreary winter's day, the sky full of steel gray clouds promising lots of wet and heavy snow. Cold winds swirled around the Macedonian army as they advanced towards the narrow mountain pass. They shivered in the cold but they were confident. Their great commander was undefeated and they expected a new easy victory. Then all hell was loose. Great, grim stone boulders were raining over them and many were crushed before they got their shields up. Alexander yelled at them:

"Retreat, my men! We must regroup!"

They ran away to a safer place, looking terrified up to the mountain. There stood a most Formidable Foe. He was almost as great as the Cyclop Odysseus and his erring crew met. His legs were thick as an oak's stem and his arms were so muscular they looked like oak branches. He held them, grasping another great boulder, big enough for ten ordinary men to lift. He had long black hair and a very long wild grown beard. His gaze was baleful and he yelled defiantly:

"Look Alexander. We are not afraid of you and your army! This pass is impossible to take!"

The boulder landed only inches before Alexander and Hephaestion. Stefanos grasped them and pulled them out of harm's reach. They all shuddered and could not hide their fear. Hephaestion asked with trembling voice:

"Whoever is this?"

One of the Persian guides answered:

"It's Carduzes, a younger brother of the Carducean Giant King Darius fought in his youth. His strength is enormous and he holds all here around covers in terror before him. "

"Well, I do not fear him. Look Alexander how I take care of your enemies!"

He lifted his great double curved bow, notched an arrow and fired at the giant. The arrow reached it's mark with true aim and Carduzes toppled of the mountain rim and disappeared behind it. The cold wind brought cries of dismay from the Persians up at the mountain pass. Alexander gave his friend a reassuring push at his back, then hugged him passionately all before the army.

"My friend, thank you for your sure aim. Without him it'll get much easier for us to claim the Persian Gate!"

No such ease for the Greatest Army on Earth. It was impossible to advance through the hostile pass. Boulders, burning oil, piercing arrows, all kinds of terrors drove them away, trembling in fear. A week passed. Alexander and Hephaestion sat in the tent brooding. Stefanos stood outside in the cold and searing wind, snowflakes heaping over his broad shoulders. He swept his winter cloak around him but it offered far to little warmth and shelter. If only some miracle could happen to make it possible for Alexander to conquer Persian Gate! Stefanos knew he was stubborn enough to make them besiege the impossible mountain pass forever...

Then some humble goatherds came, trembling with awe. They wanted to see the King on a most important matter. Stefanos thoroughly searched them. When he didn't find any weapons or other dangerous things he let them in. A long, murmuring conversation went on forever. Late in the evening Alexander called for wine and some roasted ribs and asked all his commanders in for an important war council.

Ambushed!

The mountain path was small and circled all around the steep mountain slope. All the Macedonian army advanced, close together, two or tree in line, ordered to march on in complete silence. Alexander and Hephaestion climbed in the front, Stefanos closely guarding them. The wind was hard and cold as usual, but now only a few snowflakes blew around them. It was bitterly cold and they found small comfort in their fur cloaks and winter boots. Then, around one craggy corner suddenly disaster struck. An enormous cudgel appeared as out of nowhere, hitting Hephaestion hard on his helmet. He went down immediately, almost falling off the steep cliff, regaining his footing in the last minute. Trembling and stumbling from the hard blow he drew his sword and advanced around the corner. A great clamor aroused and Alexander run after him, sword in hand.

There, to the horror of all, was Carduzes, horribly alive. He had the upper hand on Hephaestion, cruelly beating him with his cudgel. He fought bravely but futilely, several times almost falling from the narrow path. Stefanos took up a very large stone and threw it at Carduzes, in vain trying to help his Lord and friend. It struck home at the giant's head but affected him not at all. Alexander cried out in alarm, jumping at Carduzes, meaning to impale him upon his sword.

Too late. Hephaestion was struck down with a mighty blow on his head. He fell to the cold and icy ground, seemingly forever. All looking gasped in dismay. Alexander rushed to his friend and took him in his arms.

Stefanos couldn't believe his eyes. His Lord Hephaestion lay limp and lifeless in Alexander's mournful embrace. The King was crying openly, in high desperate sobs and cries. He was gasping for each troubled breath, looking as if his grief would kill him soon. Now snow-blended rain was falling hard upon the both of them and the wind came in howling anguished sweepings, threatening to throw them off the narrow cliff path. Carduzes stood leering at the King's grief.

"Well, now you are not so high and mighty anymore. Everyone knows well you cannot take a step without him...and it was he who handled the rod in your household!"

Alexander came out of his grief, outraged by that terrible scorn and insult. He jumped up, sword in hand and leaped at the scornful giant. They fought mightily for a long time. Alexander held his ground surprisingly well, helped by his hatred and grief. He must avenge his Dear One to every cost and righteousness guided his arm and aim. Stefanos wanted desperately to help and shield him against the Giant's mighty and dangerous blows but he knew he couldn't interfere with his King's righteous revenge.

Suddenly something unexpected happened. Carduzes let go of his mighty cudgel and snatched Hephaestion from the ground. He run away with him in his cruel arms. Alexander and Stefanos gave chase but then he vanished right into the sheer cliff, as if he had gone up in thin air.

Stefanos stood there with tears in his eyes. It was his mission in life to guard his two Lords with his life. Now he had failed - and failed miserably...

TBC


	2. In The Giant's Dungeon

Many thanks for kind reviews. Things are now looking really dark for Hephaestion - but Hope, Love and Friendship must always prevail. I will be back next week with next part - and also the update on Hazards Of Friendship.

All the best wishes and hopefully good reading,

/NorthernLight

Disaster at Persian Gate Part II

TEMPLATE:

Title: FIC: Title: Disaster At The Persian Gate. (2/6)

Author: NorthernLight

Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure and action story. Alternate History.

Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion

Date: December 2004

Feedback: Yes, all kinds, preferably "nice".

Archive:Please tell me. At the ATG Slash&Fanfic Yahoo Groups.

Disclaimer: Don't own them. For entertainment only...hopefully.

Summary: The conquest of Persian Gate was difficult for Alexander and the Macedonians. In this alternate history even worse...

Warnings: Angst. Violence. Claustrophobic imprisonment with suffering and torture.

Disaster At The Persian Gate. Part II

Suffering.

His memory was long lost but it seemed he had always been suffering endless miseries and indignities in this awesome dark and damp dungeon. His head hurt himawfully. On his first awakening on the hard, rugged stone floor he thought for some reason that the sickening and awfully pounding headache depended on him drinking too much wine the evening before. He got a short glimpse from a gorgeous party with rows of fried boars, heaps of succulent vegetables and enormous bowls and cups full of strong untempered rich red wine. Then he felt the big, aching bump on his poor head and understood. He was too dizzy to sit up and couldn't even move. When he tried to turn on his side he got violently sick and had to stay put in the clammy moss and mold on the craggy, cold stone floor. It was so cold his teeth were rattling and if he could have seen in that Stygian darkness he would have shuddered even more at the icicles hanging from the roof and the frozen streams decorating the walls.

A great boom harassed his tender ears and hurt his head even more. Then a flood of orange red light filled up his dismal cave, interrupted by an enormous black shadow. His eyes got sore from this sudden enlightenment and he was unable to see anything more.

"So, you are alive, my "friend". I'm so happy. Now we're going to have a little conversation..."

He was dragged up from the floor and propped up against the ice cold wall.

"What are your friend's intentions? How many men did he bring on the goat path? Do you really think your paltry little army would prevail against the might of Carduzes and Ariobarzanes?"

His head was filled of a foggy, painful mist. He didn't know a thing of his tormentor's questions and didn't recognize the names. All he knew was that he ought to remain silent even had he known. A violent boxing hit his right ear, another his left. His poor head rang from the hurting and he passed into merciful oblivion.

A stream of nasty smelling slops flooded over him. He woke up to another questioning, accompanied of the most unmerciful beating when he refused to answer. No parts of his body was left alone and he got completely covered with nasty, painful bruises and awfully tender swelling bumps. His eyes were so sore and swollen that he couldn't clearly see his tormentor, only a blurred nightmarish vision of a cyclopean giant with hands like morning-stars and arms like cudgels.

"You are certainly of no use for me. I ought to fight together with my comrades instead of doing this. Have you gone dumb? Answer me now - or you shall suffer the worst kind of torment and indignity!"

He found his voice. His throat felt sore and hurt him terribly but he managed to cry out defiantly:

"No. Do your worst to me, giant! I will never betray my comrades!"

"I hoped you would be so stubborn. This will bring far more pleasure to me than to yourself."

Brutally he was forced down, flat on his stomach on the cold, craggy stone floor. His face was dipped into a puddle of foul smelling water and he felt every sharp stone against his hurting body. Then he was straddled by an enormous weight and almost immediately penetrated by something hot, thumbing and awfully big. The pain was searing, almost unendurable and he gave up a loud cry as tears of shame and pain ran down his cheeks. He tried to slip into merciful unconsciousness but the pain was to awful for that.

After an eternity of suffering his tormentor left him with a cruel laughter.

"Now you see what calamity your great friend has brought upon you. Only Death himself will free you of my Cave of Pain. "

At last he succumbed to pain and weakness. A cold flood of darkness welled all over him and the merciful coolness soothed all his bruises and suffering. A golden sun warmed him. He was dressed in a leather hunting suit, sitting on an eager chestnut stallion, knowing it's name was Castor. Beautiful birches full of golden leaves spread out before him, interrupted by orange glowing maples and fiery red bushes. The air was pure and clear and the sky an azure blue, almost without clouds. A pounding of hoofs, then his Dear Golden One came riding out of the forest, as usual on his black stallion. This magnificent animal was of such fiery temper he was the only one allowed upon it's mighty back. They rode together, hunted together, got some fine wild boars.

Since the weather was so warm and pleasant they decided to stay and have supper in the forest. His Golden One did the most excellent cooking, having brought some fragrant herbs for the seasoning. The meat was so fine and succulent, combined with the rich red wine he always brought with him. When the luxurious meal was over they felt very drowsy, sitting under a broad birch stem in a warm heap of soft spread golden leafs. His Golden One put his muscular arms around him and embraced him tenderly. The wonderful warmth of his powerful arms and whole body engulfed him completely and he succumbed to the most delicious feelings of both pleasure and pain...

He woke up to the same dreary darkness and coldness. The wonderful warmth was gone together with the powerful embrace of his Golden One. His sore body lay in a puddle of blood and dirt, shivering of weakness and nasty chills. The stench in the cave was overwhelming and he got violently sick once again. His poor head hurt from the spasms of retching. Realizing the total hopelessness of his situation he at last allowed himself crying out in despair and total grief until he lapsed into unconsciousness once again.

A Golden Sun with sixteen radiant rays warmed his tormented body and put a merciful end to his shivering. A Portal opened in the midst of the Sun and his Golden One came to him, took him in his arms, told him words of love and comfort until the Wonderful Light was everywhere around them...

End of Part II.


	3. Vainglorious Victory

Alexander finds himself subjected to tragedy as Grim Fate punishes him for setting glory and conquest before the safety of his True Steadfast Friend. This is a very sad and horrible chapter - but one must bear in mind that things are not always as they appear.Next chapter will be somewhat brighter. You know the old saying, "After many tirals and tribulations..."

All the best wishes and hopefully good reading

/NorthernLight

TEMPLATE:

Title: FIC: Title: Disaster At The Persian Gate. (3/6)

Author: NorthernLight

Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure and action story. Alternate History.

Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion

Date: December 2004 Feedback: Yes, all kinds, preferably "nice".

Archive: Yes, but please tell me. At the ATG Slash&Fanfic Yahoo Groups.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. This is for my deep interest in Alexander and Hephaestion. their time and age.

Summary: The conquest of Persian Gate was difficult for Alexander and the Macedonians. In this alternate history even worse...

Warnings: Angst. Violence. Death, suffering and torture. Claustrophobic imprisonment. Severe grief. Sexual encounters. Horrible weather in some parts. Barbarous funeral practices. '

Disaster at Persian Gate Part III

Madness. Stefanos knew King Alexander always brought it with him - but mostly to be used for good purposes. One must be more than a little mad to be able to plan and succeed with his many great achievements. Now, seeing his dearest friend, unconscious, maybe even dead, snatched away before his very eyes brought on the total madness of grief and bereavement. Alexander screamed wildly for his friend, stamped the ground and ordered them all with tears in his beautiful gray eyes:

"We MUST find him, at all cost! Search for the hidden path! "

Desperately he clawed at the hard uninviting cliff wall. It didn't give in, not even for him... Now Parmenion and Krateros came to him and gently patted his shoulders from both sides.

"Alexander. We've had great news. Our ambush is a complete success. The Persian army down there has no idea we are here. We must grasp this advantage now! Soon their scouts will find us out and then it's all too late! And - you must lead us. It will mean certain victory. "

"We cannot take the time searching for your friend now. We must come back here later looking for him. "

Alexander sat down on a cold, rugged stone covered with wet blue green thick moss. He held his head in his hands, desperately moaning and crying. Stefanos came and held his hands comforting on his broad shoulders, trying to give him strength and resolution.

"My Lord, they are right - but - whatever shall we do. We cannot leave my lord Hephaestion in the claws of this horrible brute. "

Alexander sprung to his feet, filled with new resolution. His eyes glowed of it and he put his hand confidently on his sword belt.

"No, we cannot. But - I must take Persian Gate immediately! Stefanos! You must help me. Those friendly goatherds must surely know of the secret path to Carduzes lair. Go find them, then you and Kleitos must go together with a handful of good climbers to find out where my friend has been taken. I'll be with you as fast as I can. "

Alexander took Persian Gate with the most brutal resolution. The Macedonian army fell upon the Persian commander Ariobarzanes and his hapless soldiers as a total, nasty and unwelcome surprise with their fearsome King in total command of his cruel war machine. His own men didn't recognize him. High spirits turned into bitter hatred, careful planning into raging madness and outstanding fighting skills into savage cruelty. He fought madly in front of his army and continued stabbing and brandishing his sword into hapless Persian soldiers long after they had succumbed totally to the devastating surprise attack.

At last he sat down in the midst of a heap of bloodied bodies, mostly hacked to unrecognizable pieces. Ariobarzanes came to him, together with all his commanding officers. They were stained with blood and mud from the disastrous battle and fell trembling to their knees.

"Mercy, King Alexander. We surrender completely. Spare us and our beautiful Persepolis. The city with all it's treasure will give you a most warm welcome. "

"Yes. I accept your surrender. Prepare a grand reception in the Palace - and - don't forget the wine!"

He ordered Krateros and Parmenion to see to the surrendering army and capture the city of Persepolis.

"Wait for me at the Palace. Now I have more pressing matters I must attend to!"

He gave himself no time for rest after the hard battle, only gulped down some mouthfuls of strong untempered wine together with a morsel of bread and meat standing in the middle of the mess on the battlefield. Now Stefanos approached him carefully.

"My Lord. We have found the secret path to Carduzes lair - but the goatherds say it is a long and hard ride. More than three days, and it is almost impossible to take!"

"Nothing is impossible for me, especially when it concerns rescuing my dearest friend! Kleitos, bring our catapults and all the men we can spare. We shall not leave stone upon stone of this villain's lair! "

They had a long and hard ride on almost unreachable and extremely rough mountain paths. The horses had to thread carefully but mighty Bucephalos lead them in front, neighing reassuringly to his comrades. It was hard work dragging the catapults along in the hard weather. Wet snow mixed with cold rain gushed down upon them in a harsh mountain storm.

The search lasted for three almost unendurable days. If not for the iron will of their King they should have turned back after only a few hours. A big castle that seemed to have grown out of the craggy stones all by itself rose before them. It seemed impossible to take or besiege but Alexander rode bravely to the big stone door and beat upon it with his spear.

"Carduces! Come out and face me like a man! Give my dear friend back to me!"

The towering giant came out high above them, his baleful eyes glaring at them from a high stone wall.

"Alexander. I would dearly like to, of course against a King's ransom. Unfortunately he didn't survive my most gentle hospitality and ministrations. But - he got a very fine funeral. His bones are resting on the highest Tower of Silence we've ever made."

(The Tower of Silence was an old Asian practice of leaving the dear deceased on a high place or platform, letting noble Birds of Prey devour them. It was considered a most respectful ceremony.)

He pointed on a dismal tower of graying wood. Hungry eagles, falcons and also some scornfully screaming vultures circled around it, somewhat disappointed. All that remained on the platform was a sorrowful heap of cleanly gnawed bones. Alexander and his friends looked in utter horror. They were too late to save Hephaestion. A great sigh of grief and disappointment went through the whole army. Then Alexander straightened his back and commanded in a stern voice, but not far from hot tears of profound grief:

"Carduzes! Come down to me immediately. I must have my revenge - or else I will tear your castle down to the ground!"

"Oh no. I know you have mighty weapons, but my castle is built out off the strongest cliffs. You managed to tear down the walls of Tyre and Gaza but my lair is impossible to take! I'll stay comfortably inside seeing you starving and freezing. In here we have enough food and wine to last us a lifetime..."

Alexander gave orders to make the catapults ready.

"Fire freely! We must tear down those walls!"

Big boulders flew through the air. Their impact made no visible damage to the thick stone walls of Carduzes lair. He stood his ground proudly and defiantly, laughing scornfully at the small but resolute army. Cleitus addressed his King most disrespectfully:

"Alexander. We cannot hope to win this. We must return to the comforts and treasures of Persepolis. We all need warmth and rest!"

Alexander pushed him violently aside. Sullenly he fell upon a stone covered with wet clammy moss.

"No. Away with you. I will not leave my dear friend unavenged and unburied. "

He lifted his right arm and pointed to the cloudy skies, crying out in desperation, tears running down his cheeks blending with the cold rain.

"Zeus Ammon , Father Hight in the Heavens! Help your Son! Give me my revenge!"

A Golden Lightning cleaved the skies. Carduzes mighty lair was reduced to a heap of smoldering gravel and small stones. Hot dust rained over Alexander and his army. He looked around him, very surprised. Then he looked very amazed at his right hand, as if it had been some strange and powerful Secret Weapon.

Carduzes stood in the ruins of his mighty lair, looking perturbed around him, still holding his cruel cudgel.

"Strange luck you've got, Alexander. My lair is lost to me - but you still have lost your dear friend in a most cruel way. Now let us fight to the death so I can save Persia from further cruelties from you and your savage brutes!"

Those who say the battle between Darius and the Carduzean Giant was one of the mightiest in Persian history are wrong. Alexander avenging his dearest friend, wielding his sword in grief and solemn rage was the most awesome sight. The battle raged on for hours, mighty sword against cruel cudgel, both opponents getting sorely wounded several times. They staggered around, their limbs heavy from weariness, harder and harder to gasp after a breath of the cold thin mountain air, their sight dimming in the darkening evening. No one seemed to get the upper hand and the small army were very worried about their young leader.

Suddenly he slipped and stumbled upon a stone covered with slimy moss. He fell to the ground, knocked out of his labored breath, drifting into dangerous unconsciousness. A lightning sharp reflex made him lift his sword in front of him. Carduzes gave up a triumphant roar and lifted his cruel cudgel for the final blow.

A black thunder cloud fell upon him from behind, sharply neighing and brandishing heavy hoofs. He dropped his cudgel and fell forward in a violent uncontrollable leap, impaling himself on Alexander's sword in the process. This Formidable Foe died almost instantaneously, bloody foam steaming out of his mouth. With his dying breath he gasped out:

"I never thought you would be the end of me...but I find comfort in my last moments that you will be without your dearest friend the rest of your lifetime!"

Alexander dragged himself free from the enormous body, thankfully hugging his unexpected savior. His steadfast war stallion, his true and close friend on all his perilous journeys. His little army cheered his valiant victory - but he felt no joy. Nobody saw him cry tears of endless sorrow in the ebony black mane of Bucephalus. It took him forever to recover from his weariness. Nobody was able to give him succor or comfort. His equine friend nuzzled him tenderly, neighed gently to encourage him but nothing could calm his silent grief.

Stefanos took a purple cloth, climbing the dismal Tower of Silence. It was the most sorrowful task in his whole life. On the top of the tower he reverently lifted the heap of sorrowful bones and swept them into the cloth. It was very cold up there and the tears flowing freely down his cheeks froze like a mask of ice on his face. Once again he had failed most miserably to save his Lord. The future seemed to be filled with gloom and endless sorrow, their great victory all in vain...

TBC


	4. Survival!

Here we get to know about the fate of Hephaestion. While Alexander thinks his True Steadfast Friend has been reduced into a heap of sorrowful bones Hephaestion is still alive and fighting to get his strength and memories back. Fortunately there are kind people helping him.

All the best wishes

/NorthernLight

TEMPLATE:

Title: FIC: Title: Disaster At The Persian Gate. (4/6)

Author: NorthernLight

Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure and action story. Alternate History.

Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion

Date: December 2004

Feedback: Yes, all kinds, preferably "nice".

Archive: Yes, but please tell me. At the Yahoo Slash&Fanfic groups.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. For entertainment only...hopefully. This is for my deep interest in Alexander and Hephaestion, their time and eternal adventures.

Summary: The conquest of Persian Gate was difficult for Alexander and the Macedonians. In this alternate history even worse...

Warnings: Angst. Violence. Death, suffering and torture. Claustrophobic imprisonment. Severe grief. Sexual encounters. Horrible weather in some parts. Barbaric funeral procedures, very disgusting. Ravens with bad table manners. Elaborate description of injuries and illness.

History note: The Tower of Silence was an old Persian funeral practice. One let the departed rest on high platforms where birds of prey could feast on them and in that manner carry the bodies higher up in the Heavens.

Credits: R E Howard for the masterpiece of angst in A Witch Shall Be Born. One never forgets that hungry vulture...

The sad folk ballad of The Three Ravens, here with quite another outcome for the hero.

Disaster at Persian Gate Part IV

Survival.

It was all important for him to survive. He could feel it in his very bones. His dear Golden One would never manage on his own, without his strong and tender support. He was drawn into the wonderful Golden Light, the sparkling star warming him, luring him deep into oblivion... A great roar of thunder, a sizzling flash, then a wave of ice cold snow blended water drenched him. He opened his eyes, staring up into a cloudy gray sky, heavy with rain and thunder. The air around him was very cold, hard winds blowing but the nasty stench from the Cave of Pain was mercifully gone. He took a deep breath, wanted the pure air into his lungs but a crushing pain around his ribcage thwarted his intention. His breathing grew shallow and he took some sniffles through his nose. A most awful stench assailed his poor nostrils. He turned his head around, feeling a stabbing pain in his neck, followed by most disgusting crunching sounds in his whole back.

His eyes fell upon a skull, it's empty sockets staring forlorn at him, resting in a heap of sorrowful bones. Some half rotten rags of meat was left on them. It looked like the rest of it had been eaten away. His memory was long gone - but he knew he had been a brave man once. None the less he cried out in terror and tried to get up. Impossible. He found himself tightly bound to hands and feet! Desperately he tugged at the grim cords trying to tear himself free. Tearing, searing pain assaulted him again, making his efforts impossible. He forced himself to calm down and assess his dreadful predicament. Turning his head from right to left he found that he had been hoisted up to some kind of wooden platform, being so far up in the sky he couldn't see the ground.

Roaring wings fanned him from above. Three black, ominous ravens landed around him, watching him ravenously, as if he had been a most sumptuous feast. One started to hack on his right leg, the other put his grim beak to work on his left arm. The third was older, looked like a really grim old hag. She peered cruelly and hungry right in his eye for a very long time before she made a deep gash in his forehead. He cried out in pain and anguish:

"Away, you nasty harpies! Let me be!" No use. They continued their hacking, slowly, cruelly. He tossed and turned in pain and anguish. The hard knots bound him, made it impossible to liberate himself from his torments. A fond memory came before him. His dear Golden One solving an impossible knot with one lightning stroke. No such luck for him. The old she hag came close to his mouth, looking him right into the eye. He spat upon her.

"NO. I won't be an easy meal for you!"

In sheer desperation he bit at her tough feathery neck, his mouth filling with bitter blood and slimy grease. She cried out in amazement and pain, then all was silent. The ravenous raven hung limp and dead over his throat . Her two cronies looked astonished for a long time, their meal interrupted. Then they started hacking again. With tears in his eyes he cried out in desperation:

"Oh no, no, no! Don't let me end this nasty way. Please, help me, someone, anyone. My Dear Golden One needs me...and I need Him!"

The sky broke open. Lightning hit him like a rush of molten gold. He passed out for a long time...fell into merciful oblivion. Awakening. Warming rain fell upon his hurting body. He felt strangely invigorated and lighthearted. His breath came easier and soon he managed to sit up. The tight knots were gone, the cruel ropes reduced to charred black rags. The Three Ravens lay in smoldering heaps around him, as dead as those sorrowful bones around him. He put his hand on the sadly staring skull.

"Farewell, my poor friend. But for the Grace of Father Zeus I would have shared this dismal bed with you forever. Rest in peace. I wished I could have given you a more proper resting place."

He moved slowly, agonized but with unnatural strength. The platform swayed dangerously. He looked down into an abyss, cold winds tried to blow him down into its mountainous depths. A wave of dizziness rocked him and he took a fast look at the steep way down from the platform before climbing down. He didn't dare to look at the abyss, only gazed around to put hands and feet in the proper places. It was an arduous descent and took him an eternity of hard climbing. The steady ground met him, his feet giving in under him. He was trembling from fatigue, drenched in cold sweat, almost out of breath. Exhausted he fell down on some rugged, wet stones, looking upon an ominous Cliff Castle. It was the nearest place for him to find help but he shuddered from some anguished memory. He knew for certain that he couldn't find any succor there.

Getting up on hands and knees he started his stumbling walk towards a more friendly realm. Several times he fell, got up, fell again, his body bruised and battered beyond recognition. Cold rain showered him, icy winds assaulted him. He couldn't hold on for long. Then - a warm inviting light, a small hut - but with a friendly aura around it. He stumbled to it, crying out in pain and urgency.

Unexpected Company

Ghwetryn sat in her lonesome hut with only her small herd of friendly goats for company. She was newly widowed. The Cruel Giant had callously slain her husband when they couldn't pay his outrageous taxes. She was crying out of grief, hunger and loneliness. The merciless thunder storm outside made her hut rattle in the savage winds and her small fire couldn't warm her up.

What was that? A cry of pain, of the most desperate distress. It didn't sound like an animal, but not really human either. Carefully she peered out the doorway. Someone lay amongst the craggy cliffs, face down in a pool of cold rainwater. In the flickering light from her fire she saw it was a man, a man of the most unusual looks and very strong and tall. Oblivious of any fears she run to him. He was deeply unconscious, gasping for breath and she saw that he had been hurt in most horrible ways. Slowly she dragged him into the hut. He was tall and of strong built and far too heavy for her to lift. When inside she hurriedly put some extra twigs on the fire and also a kettle with pure mountain water. She put him on the simple cot and removed the dirty blood stained rags that hanged around his tortured body. It had been some fine wool and linen but now it was ruined beyond use or recognition. She dipped a cloth in the warming water and started to wash him clean from all the blood and filth he was all covered with. His body was so full of bruises and welts that she cried all the time over the tortures he had suffered. His poor backside was all raw and she saw he had been subjected to some most unmentionable abuse. He had been hit very hard on his head. She found a big, tender swelling under his thick auburn hair. Had the stroke been a little bit harder his poor skull would have been split open.

When she tended all his damages closely he cried out several times but he never regained consciousness. She rubbed in all the salves and ointments she had and bandaged him with rags from one of her own skirts. Then she wrapped him in all warm goat skins she could find and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. He was cold and shivering so she took some clay jugs and filled them with hot water to augment the warmth in his bed. Then she boiled some gruel and made a strengthening herbal infusion. She shook him tenderly into semi-consciousness and put the clay bowl to his lips. With endless patience she managed to feed him both the gruel and the infusion, talking kindly and reassuringly.

"My dear guest, you must wake up a bit, must have something to drink, something to warm you up. Here, drink it all down now. Oh, I so wonder whatever happened to you? Whoever could have treated you so badly?"

He had great difficulties in swallowing but after a while it went better. When he had finished it all she wiped his mouth with a cloth and put him comfortably to rest. Sitting down beside the cot she watched him intently and worriedly in the warm orange flickering of the open fire. He was one of the most unusual and beautiful men she had ever seen. His strong features, still so tender, clean and beautiful, even with all those gashes and bruises. The curly hair, thick, auburn, now matted with blood and dirt, but still glowing with its former beauty, short and with curls over his forehead, long waving locks at the nape of his neck. She wanted him desperately to survive, to stay with her, comfort him for all his hurts. She had hoped for a calm and restful night but got no such comfort. After a while her guest begun to move restlessly, crying out in pain and anguish in some strange and unintelligible language. She tried to calm him down, to no avail. Soon he got violently sick and retched miserably over the edge of the cot. She held his head, finding to her great dismay that he was running a very high fever.

"Oh no. You needed this better inside you - and when I found you you were cold as clay. Now you are burning up with fever. "

She spent a restless and miserable night at his bedside. He was tossing and turning, crying out in strange words. She had no way of calming him down but tried all the time to talk calmly to him, holding his hands and trying to cool him down with a cloth dipped in some ice cold mountain water.

In the morning she went to a Wise Woman, desperate for help. Old Elyanna knew all about soothing herbs and remedies, even for the most desperate and dire diseases and injuries. She had to stay with Ghwetryn for a week, doing her very best. The both women had a very hard time tending him back to health and they thought a lot about who he might be and whatever hurt him so horribly.

"He looks like the foreign conquerors marching towards Persepolis. He could have fallen from the cliffs...or perhaps run into Carduzes."

He was caught in a terrible nightmare, his pains and aches almost too much to stand. The bed was aflame with a thorny fire, his body felt hurt far beyond repair. He tossed and turned in deepest agony. A cool hand gently stroked his forehead, kind words flew into his ears. He looked up, his vision blurred of fever and dizziness. Wonder of wonders. His Dear Golden One stood over him, more beautiful than ever. A sparkling campfire enlightened his whole body, made him all the more enticing. He couldn't resist him despite his bodily weakness. Forcibly he dragged him down, forgetful of all pains and aches.

"Now my dear it is time for me to have my will with you! "

His friend complied unusually meekly as he gently turned him over and fondly embraced him with affectionate caresses, feeling his smooth and tender skin under his feverish hands. He kissed his neck, buried his hands in the soft golden tresses, sniffed his wonderful clean scents. That wonderful blend of chamomile and honey coming from his hair, his friend always newly bathed and clean. Now he couldn't resist any longer. He mounted him and begun the ages old rhythm, feverish, fervent, anguished by neglected lusts. His friend moaned of intense pleasure, then they both moaned both of lust and pain. His climax came - took all the breath and strength out of him, left him totally exhausted. He felt himself slowly sinking down in a fountain of golden bliss...

Ghwetryn lay for a long time quite amazed under the handsome stranger. Never in her whole life had she experienced such tender and heated lovemaking. Now she knew he would surely survive in her care...

One afternoon, three days after the handsome stranger came into Ghwetryn's care, something amazing and wonderful happened. The army of the young Greek Conqueror marched up to Carduzes Cruel Castle, trying futilely to tear it down. Their catapults failed but they got help in a most unusual manner. The weather in that godforsaken valley was even worse than usual. Suddenly a giant golden thunderbolt crashed into the Cruel Castle and smashed it into a heap of smoldering stones. Carduzes was never seen or heard of ever after. The poor goatherds cowering in the shadow of his grim abode were free. Never again they would fear f or his cruelties, never again sink down under his outrageous taxes. All the people in the oppressed valley were rejoicing. They had been given their freedom as a gift from some unknown but most benevolent God.

Survival.

His memory long gone, his body mended slowly, very slowly. He was sitting on a stone swept in some goat furs, warming himself in the first spring sun, helping his good and tender nurse looking after her small herd of goats. A friendly dog ran around keeping the bleating animals in order. All was well and good, but he missed something very deeply.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw his dear Golden One more and more clearly in front of him. His dearest friend was angry, then desperate, then deep down in sorrow and remorse. In his latest vision he saw him sitting at a table, teary eyed, a huge wine jug and a golden cup rimmed with rubies before him, looking like he was about to drown himself in a flood of strong red wine... He shuddered in some unknown horror, knew he must find his Dear Golden One very soon. Time was of the essence. He could feel it in his very bones.

TBC


	5. Desperate Mourning

Here comes part 5. Things are getting really bad for Alexander without his True Steadfast Friend. No victory or treasury can comfort him, not even the fabled splendors of Persepolis.

All the best wishes,

/NorthernLight

TEMPLATE

Title: FIC: Title: Disaster At The Persian Gate. (5/6)

Author: NorthernLight

Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure and action story. Alternate History.

Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion

Date: January 2004

Feedback: Yes, all kinds, preferably "nice".

Archive: Yes, if you like, but please tell me. Archivated at the ATG Slash&Fanfic Yahoo Groups.

Disclaimer: Don't own them. For entertainment only...hopefully.

Summary: The conquest of Persian Gate was difficult for Alexander and the Macedonians. In this alternate history even worse...

Warnings: Angst. Violence. Death and suffering. Severe grief taking the most macabre expressions. Drunkenness. Horrible incendiary fire.

Historical reference: When the great Swedish Warrior King Gustav II Adolf died his poor widowed Queen was so overwhelmed with her grief that she kept his heart always with her, embalmed in a golden casket. I couldn't resist making a parallel in this yarn.

Disaster at Persian Gate Part V

Mourning.

He had always feared the demise of his True Steadfast Friend, despaired of his ability to manage all his great works without him. Now disaster had struck and he was completely alone. The Persian army was totally defeated and Carduzes Cruel Castle was reduced to a heap of smoldering rubbles. All to no avail. His best and dearest Friend, Hephaestion lay dead in his arms, wrapped in a purple gold rimmed cloth. All that was left of him after Carduzes cruel tortures was a heap of sorrowful bones. He cradled them in his arms, and was crying inconsolably over them. Sometimes he lifted the cloth and kissed the poor skull, wetting it with hot sorrowful tears.

He felt endless remorse over his fatal decision to capture Persian Gate before saving his True Steadfast Friend. His quest for fighting glory and victories had always been the most important thing for him - but now it had brought him naught but the deepest sorrow.

The victorious army waited outside Persepolis. They were alarmed when they saw Alexander returning with the sad purple cloth in his arms and no Hephaestion at his sides. Hushed whispers flew from mouth to curious ears and soon everyone knew about Hephaestion's sad demise. Many cried of real sorrow, many more for the terrible grief of their young King and general. He looked so stricken, his face so pale and drawn, his features contorted in a masque of sadness, even his beautiful golden hair looked damp and without it's shining gloss. That golden glow, the divine fire that always was in him and radiating from him seemed to have abandoned him totally. Craterus and Parmenion asked him:

"What shall we do with the city. It awaits us."

"Let our troops loose to do whatever they want with those cursed Persians. They have taken my dearest friend from me. I will have my revenge. All history will know about it!"

The Sack of Persepolis lasted for three cruel days. The plunder, violence and rape knew no boundaries. The commanders had no control over the troops and the atrocities had to run their cruel courses until all men tired of it and fell asleep upon heaps of gold and the charred remains of burnt down dwellings, empty wine jugs in their hands and laps. The poor inhabitants of Persepolis cowered in fear, wishing for someone to put an end to all their plights.

Alexander had been put to bed in the Royal Chamber in the Palace. He rested on silken sheets, his aching head on soft feather pillows dampened with his endless tears of inconsolable grief, covering under a thick purple bed spread. He still cradled the sorrowful bones in their soiled purple cloth, embracing them fondly in a hard grip, now crying desperately, no more tears left to shed, shaking of dry, agonized sobbing. It was impossible to tear them from him. The stench was becoming unbearable. Stefanos and his good friend Alexios were sitting at each side of the ornate Royal Canopied Bed. They had always guarded the King together - but never under such macabre circumstances.

Now Old Aristandros, Alexander's reliable Sooth Sayer, came inside the chamber, a beautiful ornate gold casket in his arms. Carefully he approached his grief stricken King.

"My Lord...you must rest. Those sorrowful bones must also rest. Something tells me your dear friend is still alive. Do not grieve so. He will be back to you. I've seen it in my dreams...It'll take some time...weeks...even months...but you will be together again..."

Alexander sat up, his eyes red rimmed with endless crying, full of despair and sorrow.

"No. It's only as you say to put me on my feet again. Away with you! Leave me alone with my sorrow. I will never be happy again..."

He fell back on his bed, curling up on his side, again cradling the sorrowful bones and wetting them with his tears. Stefanos pulled the purple bedspread over him, his tears also falling on the sad sight of his King totally bereaved of happiness and sanity.

Aristander ran out of the Royal Bedchamber. He hasted to the quarters of Philip, Alexander's trusted Royal Physician. He sat doting over lots of glass phials with strange and sharp colored contents.

"Oh, Philip, I did as you recommended, but he didn't listen to me. I think I even got him more maddened with this unnatural grief. Whatever shall we do to get him on his feet again?"

"We must separate him from those sorrowful bones...or else he will become their companion soon! If kind persuasion doesn't help then we must do it with force!"

Aristandros, Philip, Ptolemy, Crateros and Cleitus marched steadfast and in desperate determination into the Royal Bedchamber. Philip told Alexander in a most decisive manner:

"My Lord! You must stop your grieving immediately and rise yourself into action! You have many wealthy countries to govern...a victorious army to lead... treasury to be savored...You cannot go on like this, moaning and crying over those sorrowful bones. It is damaging for your health! Let us put an end to it!"

They threw themselves upon him. The doctor forcefully tore the sorrowful bones from his strong grip, the other fore men dragged him away from the macabre bundle. He sobbed deeply and cried desperately after his dear one.

"No! Noooo! Don't take him from me!"

Doctor Philip brought a big glass phial with violet contents.

"Here, my Lord. Drink all of this. It will calm you down. "

Alexander refused to swallow, but, weakened from his mourning, they all forced him. The strong drug, a mixture of laudanum, strong wine and hypericum, soon took it's hold upon him and put him to a merciful unconsciousness. Stefanos removed his dirty clothes and washed him clean with warm perfumed water. He changed the sheets, brought a new bedspread and tucked him in, tearfully wishing for him:

"Sleep well, my Lord. I hope you'll feel better when you wake up. "

Doctor Philip and Aristandros put the sorrowful bones in the beautiful golden casket, musing over the macabre bundle.

"Strange. They seem so small. The Lord Hephaestion was a very large boned man..."

Alexander slept fitfully, turning from side to side in his sleep, crying and often feeling in vane after his True Steadfast Friend. Then he entered a nightmarish world, seeing Carduzes alive again, torturing his Dear One in most unmentionable ways. His friend lay unconscious on a cold stone floor, his body tormented and covered with welts and bruises, his beautiful auburn hair matted with dirt and dried blood. He came near and embraced him for comfort, telling soothing words of consolation.

Suddenly his friend wasn't in his arms. A grinning scull and a macabre heap of sorrowful bones stared at him, cold and reproaching. A sad and hollow voice told him:

"You abandoned me for your futile hunt for wars and victories. Never will you find such Love and Friendship again!"

He awoke with a scream of terror.

"Hephaestion! Hephaestion! Where are you? Why did I ever drag you with me to all these disasters?"

Warm, friendly arms embraced him, trying to put him to rest again. It was Stefanos, his faithful guard.

"My Lord Alexander, calm yourself. He won't come back to you. You must return to life...return to all of us who love you and need you..."

He poured a goblet of cool mountain water and held to his dry lips.

"Here, my Lord. You must drink. "

Alexander found he was very thirsty indeed, and strangely not after wine. He drunk deeply from the golden goblet, asking for more when it was finished. Afterward he asked:

"Where is he? Why did you take him from my side?"

"We didn't take him far, my Lord. His sorrowful bones are in this golden casket. They'll rest there until the ceremony..."

"No. No! I cannot bear the thought of him burning on a sad smoldering pyre! I'll bring him with me forever!"

He started crying again. Stefanos had to send for doctor Philip to give him another dose of laudanum which put him to another fitful sleep. Alexander rested for days, slowly returning to a more normal way of life. He sat up in bed, agreeing to nourishing himself with cool mountain water and meager soups and gruel. Not even once did he ask for his favorite jar of wine. His mourning was far too deep to drench in a flood of besotted intoxication.

Calmly and orderly he got up and returned to commanding his army and government. He inspected the fabulous treasury of Persepolis but it gave him no pleasure at all. All that gold, all those jewels, all the splendors of the Royal Palace, nothing could return his True Steadfast Friend, his Dear One. He felt like all joy and meaning had departed from his life. The mourning he ordered went on and on. The poor horses didn't understand why their manes and tails were cut off, the soldiers tired of talking quietly, and no celebrating of their grand victory was permitted.

Then one dayKIng Alexandercalled for a most splendid feast to be prepared in the Royal Palace.

"I'll say farewell to my dear Hephaestion in the most spectacular manner. All are invited. No one will forget his sad demise. "

Hephaestion's Funeral Feast begun in a most civilized and well ordered manner. Toast were said, speeches were held, first by those who secretly resented Hephaestion but had to hail his glory not to fall completely from grace. When they had told their tales spiced with hypocrisy, Hephaestion's true friends came forth, not at all so many. More toasts, more sumptuous food, then fruit and honey cakes. The wine flowed freely all over the banqueting hall, the guests becoming more unruly by the hour. Alexander sat in the King's Hight Seat, stone cold sober. When all was said and done he rose, completely steady and decided.

"My friends and subjects, now we have taken our sad farewells of my True and Steadfast Friend, the best and most sensible man to ever have thread this troubled earth. The Persians took him from me, far too early. They will feel my revenge! "

Suddenly he leaped from the High Seat, grasping a torch from the wall. He ran up and down the banqueting hall, setting fire to all the curtains and furniture, making it a flaming inferno. The guests fled in panic. Strangely all the guards showed them out all in good order and no one got left inside with the roaring fire. Persepolis was burning, reduced to a glowing pyre of sad embers. All it's treasury and valuables had been brought into safety outside the doomed city.

Alexander stood outside his Royal Tent, uphill from the smoking ashes of Persia's grandest city and capital. It should have been his moment of Greatest Glory, his overwhelming revenge upon Persia's many outrages against Greece and Macedon. Instead it had become the saddest hour of his life.

"Oh, Hephaestion, my Dearest Friend, I've given you the grandest Funeral Pyre of all time - but I will give all my treasury and victories away could I but have you back at my side again. "

He turned his back at the smoldering ruins. A very large jar of wine waited for him inside the Royal Tent. He poured a golden goblet adorned with rubies full with the dark red dangerous liquid and set himself down to drink...and drink...and drink even more. The sorrowful bones in the beautiful golden casket moaned in sad regret.

TBC


	6. Happy Reunion

Here, at long last Alexander and Hephaestion get their Happy Reunion in the conclusion of the troubled tale of Persian Gate. We have a saying in my country, "After seven sorrows and eight woes..." The Macedonians will get the surprise of their lives!

All the best wishes,

/NorthernLight

TEMPLATE

Title: FIC: Title: Disaster At The Persian Gate. (6/6)

Author: NorthernLight

Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure and action story. Alternate History.

Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion

Date: February 2004

Feedback: Yes, all kinds, preferably "nice".

Archive:Yes, if you like, but please tell me. Archivated in the Yahoo Slash&Fanfic Groups.

Disclaimer: I don't own them.This is for my deep interest in Alexander and Hephasetion, their time and age.

Summary: The conquest of Persian Gate was difficult for Alexander and the Macedonians. In this alternate history even worse...

Rating: R

Warnings: Angst.Severe grief taking macabre expressions. Sexual encounters. Severe drunkenness and sinister portrayal of wine addiction.

Credits: Many thanks to Shonenlee. Without your "disastrous" idea for a fic challenge this story would never have existed. I'm also very glad and thankful for all your kind support.

Disaster at Persian Gate Part VI

Comfort.

It was impossible to give comfort in the grief and deprivation King Alexander felt after the Lord Hephaestion's disappearance and horrible death. Stefanos witnessed with dismay and compassion the first maddening grief of his Lord and King. The following depression and despondency waseven worse. Burning Persepolis as Hephaestion's Funeral Pyre didn't help him at all. This macabre incendiary exploit only drew him all the deeper into drunkenness and despair.

Now he was drinking continually, never getting really sober between the parties. His control of the army was suffering and the generals and soldiers were grumbling. They feared for his very reason - and they really needed a strong and mighty leader, being so far away from the securities of their homeland, the far away Macedonia.

Drinking.

It had always been a comfort to him, celebrating happy moments and victories, calming him down when troubled with set-backs, soothing the pains and aches of wounds and exhaustion and helping him to think better when making difficult decisions. Now he found that not even the strong, dark red fluids in his beloved wine jars could drown his terrible grief and remorse over Hephaistion's death. He was completely to blame, he and only he for this disaster. His True Steadfast Friend was gone forever - and he missed him more for every day and night that went.

He couldn't stand the hypocrisy of his companions. No one truly mourned Hephaestion of this envious lot. They gave him sound advice to get on his feet again, lead them home to Macedonia again, to see their families and celebrate their victories in the domestic bliss of their Native Country. He couldn't make a decision, couldn't leave the sad place of his friend's last days. Now he didn't even leave his tent for meetings and debriefings. He was sitting all alone in his grief, his wine jar as only comfort. And he drank...and he drank...and he drank...

Dislike.

Stefanos never thought he would have this feeling about his King, his splendid Golden Lord. He stood outside his tent, peering inside at his horrible lonesome drinking. Now the King rose to his feet. Almost immediately he stumbled and fell. Stefanos rushed to him and found him unconscious at the floor, reeking from wine fumes and food stains on his white purple rimmed robe. Like far too many times before he lifted him and carried him to his bed. He had to undress him and wash him. Then he covered him with a fine purple blanket and sat down to his lonesome vigil. Prudently he put an empty silver bowl and an ewer with cool water and a linen cloth within comfortable reach, knowing they soon would be needed.

He remembered this very tent when captured after Issos. All it's splendors and luxuries, especially Alexander's fondness of the perfumed bath prepared for Darius, but enjoyed by himself!

"Is it like this to truly be a King!"

This was his one comment over all the finery of the Persian Court. Now all the riches of the world couldn't give him his Dear One back. No happiness or comfort was to be gained from golden treasuries or brilliant victories. Stefanos cried in despair in the dark Persian night, being captured in his Lord's desperate grief and despondency.

Sickness.

He had felt it before, all too often, after his drinking excesses. Now he woke up, in the middle of the night, crying in despair, plagued by the same nightmare of the sorrowful bones reproaching him over and over again for abandoning his True Steadfast Friend to his cruel fate and early death. His head hurt most awfully, like a war drum beating inside his skull, almost splitting it apart with roaring, painful strokes dealt with hammers of cruel copper. Then came the violent heaves of sickness. He rolled over on his side and retched miserably over the edge of the bed. Stefanos held his head and helped him as best as he could.

"My Lord. All this has to end! You will drink yourself do death soon if not...I'm sick and tired of nursing you when you have been in your cups! The generals and your whole army mocks you behind your back!"

Alexander was too sick to answer or defend himself. Stefanos took the linen cloth and wiped his face and helped him back to bed. Many times during the night this depressing scene repeated itself. In the morning the King could no longer speak or rise from his comfortable cushions. Much alarmed, Stefanos sent for Doctor Philip. He came and looked in utter horror at the King, in this dreadful state. Alexander was barely breathing, his head hurt so much every movement was a torment. He was deathly pale and his skin clammy and cold from pain and sickness. The good Doctor asked anxiously:

"Stefanos! Why didn't you call upon me earlier? How long has he been like this?"

"He has been sleeping badly, the same nightmare again and again. Then this horrible headache and the sickness. He must have been poisoned by nasty people!"

Stefanos was too ashamed to tell the good Doctor the embarrassing truth.

Doctor Philip examined his King closely. He was a very good doctor and with only his two clever hands and all his other senses he could detect every known sickness or poison. After a long and thorough examination he said sternly:

"Yes, Stefanos. You are completely right. He has been poisoned in a most vile manner - but not by nasty people. This is self inflicted! We must save him from himself, or else he might die very soon. This horrible drinking has to be stopped once and for all!"

Suffering.

His Dear Golden One was suffering grievously. He could feel it in his very bones. His memory of a life before the cruelties of Carduzes was gone but his aching head was full of pictures of his friend, plagued with suffering and sickness. Once in the night he awoke screaming, bathing in cold sweat. He saw and felt a grand palace burning like the biggest furnace in the world. His friend stood far too close to the orange, red hot flames, a hideous spiteful but totally mirthless smile in his beautiful face, hopeless grief and sorrow shining in his wonderful gray eyes.

Ghwetryn comforted him as best as she could, taking him in her loving arms, opening herself to his desperate and violent lovemaking. Now when he was recovering from his many damages it had become harder and harder to satisfy him. He was a very large and strong man, and it seemed he was not acquainted with the more gentle needs of women at all...

One day he felt completely whole and strong again. He knew he couldn't linger any longer, dependent on her kind hospitality. He took some bread and cheese and packed in a bundle, strapped a large knife at his side and gripped his strong oaken staff. She looked at him, knowing it would come to this, but still with tears in her loving brown eyes. He embraced her, saying kind words in a language she was unable to understand:

"My dear, I'm so thankful for all your help and hospitality, but now I must leave you. There is One who needs me far better than you and your friendly flock of goats. I know he has far more riches than he needs himself. When I find him I will see to it that you are most generously rewarded for helping me to recover. "

He kissed her on booth cheeks, then he turned away and started to walk down the steep cliff path. Ghwetryn stood looking after him, her eyes so full of tears she almost couldn't see his broad shoulders and his shining auburn hair disappear down the slope. Then she felt the Great Spark of Life within her - and she knew she would never ever be alone again.

Abstinence

Never before had anyone dared taking away his dear wine jugs. He didn't know how to stand reality without them. Stefanos and Doctor Philip had treated him very cruelly, forcing him to drink whole bowls of cold pure mountain water and feeding him mild gruel and wholesome foods easy to digest. At first he got violently sick, but after that came complete restlessness. He managed to dress and get on his feet, holding councils and war meetings, planning to chase after Darius and capture him once and for all - but the only thing he really wanted to capture was his lovely wine jugs. The good Doctor, his Concerned Companions and his Vigilant guards were all part of a sinuous conspiracy, constantly bereaving him of his only comfort in grief. Strangely there was not a jug, no, not even a single drop of wine to have in all the camp!

Early one morningAlexander managed to sneak away from all his guards, hiding his golden armor and fine weapons under a humble gray woolen cloak. They were sleeping, or not shoving enough attention. He would certainly scold them for it later - but now he was off to some important business. He went to the stable. Bucephalos had his own guards. Astonished they let him inside. His faithful friend stood there, together with Castor, Hephestion's war stallion. Both stallions tried to comfort each other, but they often sunk deep into sad grumblings and musings about happier days when their both Lords were riding them out for war and high adventure. Alexander made Bucephalus ready for going out. The wise stallion whinnied questioning, unfamiliar with the situation.

"Calm, calm and quiet, my friend. We are going on a most important errand..."

Castor grumbled and tore at his fetters. Before the sad passing of his Lord he had been the most docile of animals, every bit as prudent and steadfast as his Master. Now he was often morose and moody and no one had been able to mount and ride him. Alexander saw his distress and embraced his soft auburn neck, crying again over the sad loss they both had suffered.

"Yes, my dear. You may come with us. I'm so sad I abandoned your Master. Would that I could bring him back to you again!"

He leaped upon the strong back of Bucephalus, riding out forcibly from the stable tent. Castor followed his mate, content to get into action. The guards questioned vigilantly:

"My Lord. Where are you off to? Someone must follow you...guard you..."

"It's not necessary! I'm just having a little morning's exercise...Don't disturb me any more. "

They rode out of camp, up a green hill. Soon they came to a very large and famous wine-yard...

Alarm.

Stefanos woke up from a troubled sleep on his couch in the King's tent. One more troublesome day guarding his King from himself and his alluring wine jugs. He sat up and stretched his strong limbs while wiping the sleep out of his weary eyes. Then he went to Alexander's bed. The King lay comfortably tucked inside his purple bedspread. He put his hand gently on the royal shoulder.

"My Lord. It's high time for you to rise. Oh no!"

No one lay in the royal bed, only a soft heap of silent pillows. He sounded the alarm. Doctor Philip came, Crateros, Ptolemy and Eumenes and all the Companions.

"Alexander is gone! He must have sneaked away from us during the night. Where in all the world may he have went?"

Doctor Philip answered him tersely:

"Where in all the world...There is only one place to search for him...and I fear the worst may have happened..."

They ran for their horses and rode straight for the famous wine yard. Bucephalus and Castor stood at a wall covered with ivy, guiltily hanging their heads. The owner came out greeting them.

"Are you looking for King Alexander? He is in my guest hall, doing me the honor of sampling my finest vintages. I think he must have enjoyed them far too much..."

They found the King supported only by the wooden table, resting in a drunken heap, head on his arms. Doctor Philip shook him violently.

"Alexander! What have you done? I'm horrified. One cannot ever let you be on your own! Now you are coming back to camp with us. There will be no more wine sampling - ever! "

"Philip. Why are you scolding me so? Just having a breakfast with a little sampling of these fine vintages. "

"No more! Stefanos! Help him out. We must get him sober immediately!"

Stefanos gently lifted the King up on his feet. He was reeling giddily and the strong guard had to get help from his companion Alexios to drag him out and lift him upon his horse. Bucepalus looked at the sad state of his Master. It was not the first time, but now he was worse than ever. He set off in a calm gait, careful not to upset his dear but hopelessly drunken burden. They rode towards a stream with all the cool mountain water they would need to sober up the King but they didn't quite make it. Stefanos saw the King reeling unsteadily, white face and lips, cold sweat on his brow. Next he was falling of his horse and staggering into some bushes at the side of the road.

Guarding.

Once again Stefanos was guarding his dear Lord. He sat under a big three, the shade of it's light green branches protecting them from the bright spring sun. Alexander lay with his head in his lap, senseless from drinking and the following sickness. Stefanos had found no way of comforting him, not friendly talk and listening, not more stern advice of taking good care and getting on his feet again - and certainly not the false merriness poured out of the wine jug. He was crying out of despair. His tears wet the pale face of his Lord. Alexander didn't wake up from his drunken stupor, didn't even react. Stefanos feared for his reason, even for his very life.

Once again he had failed - and failed miserably.

Wandering.

He wandered, his legs still weak from his long sickness, needing support from his wooden staff. The friendly goatherds followed him discreetly around and behind. The wandering was long and trying for him and he must stay for unwilling rest far too often. He searched everywhere after his Dear Golden One, not finding him anywhere. The bread, cheese and wine in his knapsack dwindled away but there was always more for him at evenings which he spent in friendly huts along his arduous road.

Now he had been wandering futilely for almost a month, not knowing where to search. It was a most beautiful day of sparkling spring. The birds sung merrily, the bees were humming and the air was fresh from the pleasant scents of newly budded spring flowers. A golden sun shone all over the landscape and he couldn't see clearly for it's brightness.

Then another even brighter light came before his eyes. He saw a majestic oak with branches reaching far out over a soft green pasture. Under it, wonder over all wonders, lay his Dear Golden One. He was asleep, his head in the lap of another man with curly black hair and strong features. At this sight he felt himself assaulted by the blackest jealousy.

Then all his memories flooded over him like a stream of melted gold, so strongly that his legs gave in to him. He had to lean heavily on his wooden staff not to stumble and fall to the ground. He was no poor mountain goat herd at all! He was Hephaestion, friend and Companionto King Alexander, the best man and bravest leader there ever was!

But - how dared Stefanos, their true and steadfast lifeguard, steal his Dear Golden One away from him in such a tender embrace? He must have a stern reproof! He forgot his hurts and weakness. Mad with the blackest jealousy he threw his wooden staff away and leaped with violent strides towards his Beautiful Golden One. He came upon poor Stefanos and grasped his shoulders, dragging him mightily from the ground.

The lifeguard looked at him, eyes filled with shock and terror.

"My...my Lord Hephaestion! But..but...you're supposed to be dead! I saw it myself. You were hit by that cruel cudgel...dragged away by Carduzes. Your sorrowful bones are resting in a precious golden casket right now!"

"Me dead? Sorrowful bones in a casket? Not in this life! Away with you! Alexander is mine...mine forever!"

"Yes. That we all know. Please, don't hurt me. It is not as it seems. You must be quiet and gentle. King Alexander has been drinking heavily for a long time..far too much to be healthy. He is very ill...we are afraid for his very reason. I was only looking after him..."

"Oh no. I always feared for him - how he would manage if i wasn't there for him. Well, I'm glad we won't know any more of it. Please, Stefanos, leave us alone. "

Heavenly Bliss.

Alexander woke up, resting on a soft green meadow, his poor hurting head in a friendly but muscular lap. A warm golden light of Love and Friendship surrounded him and he was feeling completely secure and safe. He gasped for breath and the sweet scent of spring flowers rushed into his nostrils. Strong hands held his aching head, gently caressing his brow. He felt the headache leaving him more for every second, the cruel copper hammers disappearing from inside his skull. Now he felt completely well and healthy once again, better than ever since that awful day at Carduzes Cruel Castle.

Opening his eyes he looked up into two wonderful deep brown eyes, the dearest in all the world. The well known face of his True Steadfast Friend soared above him in a golden glimmer of sunshine filtered down lush spring green foliage. Immediately he realized what must have happened to him.

"Oh. They were right, Stefanos and Doctor Philip and all. I really managed to drink myself into oblivion! But, what does it matter. We are together again, my Dear. No more troubles...no more vainglorious victories..."

"Yes, Alexander. Now we'll always be together. You must never abandon me to cruel tormentors again!"

Alexander sat up and embraced his True Steadfast Friend, felt his strong arms around him, his warm unselfish Love. All was well again. Hot tears of joy filled his eyes and he felt the same on the cheeks of his friend. For a long time they couldn't speak, they just enjoyed their Happy Reunion.

Then he heard familiar voices around him. Looking up he saw all his Guards and Companions, most alive and healthy in appearance. Even Bucephalos and Castor were standing there, happily prancing and neighing.

"You all...here? What happened? Did the Enemy come upon us when I was sleeping it off? And..even our poor horses?"

Hephaestion told him:

"No, Alexander. It's not as you think. I'm alive...you are alive too...and all our friends. It has all been a bad dream we must wake ourselves up from..."

Once again they embraced each other and rose to face their Intriguing Reality - but - together to solve all problems and challenges.

Disappointment.

At first Crateros thought he saw a ghost, then he realized it actually was Hephaestion, alive and well, back at Alexander's side. He draw a great sigh of envious despair. He had hoped for more power, more friendship. Now all was back as it were...That man, stealing the King's Confidence away from him forever!

Cassander jolted back at the sight of Hephaestion sitting under the tree, once more embracing the King in love and friendship. He closed his eyes in sheer amazement. When he opened them once more that man was still there and he gave him an envious glare, knowing he would never get the High Command he so eagerly longed for.

Eumenes didn't believe what his sly, calculating eyes saw. Hephaestion was back! Was it really the man himself...or had those sorrowful bones been made to rise by the King's sorrowful lamentations? With utter disappointment he saw himself bereaved of his newly gained power over the King's accounts and supplies. He cursed silently for himself. That man, stealing the King's Finances away from him forever!

Happy Reunion

There was a grand party in the Royal Tent. The starlit velvet Persian night was filled with happy laughter and mirthful joy. The torches were lit outside, the oil lamps burned merrily inside the King's Banqueting Hall. All were dining on the richest foods and the best vintages - but someone had seen to that they were well diluted with cool mountain water.

The King was resting on his couch with Hephaestion at his side. All was happy and in satisfied...all but one. Stefanos stood outside, looking at the mirth and gaiety inside. He was feeling very bad, thinking of King Alexander almost drinking himself down into oblivion while he was guarding him, also thinking of his Lord Hephaestion suffering all kinds of torments and indignities while he should have gone looking more carefully after him. He felt himself a complete failure and wanted to slip away into the Persian night forever.

Then Hephaestion rose from the King's couch and came to his side.

"My dear Stefanos. Do not look so guilty and morose. I want to thank you for guarding my Dear Golden One so well when I was...away. You managed to save him from himself, helped him when he overindulged in his dear wine jars. I'm so thankful that I found him alive for me. Come with me into the Banqueting Hall. There is room enough on the Royal Coach for three..."

He embraced the loyal guard and guided him with strong arms inside to all the festivities. Stefanos felt hot tears of joy falling down his cheeks. He had been successful at last. His Two Lords were safe and together again, the future bright with new adventures and challenges.

The End

TBC in Persian Gate Revisited


End file.
